


Artist's Hands

by lifeinskinnyjeans



Series: Inspiration [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Artists, Cute, Drawing, Hands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 09:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeinskinnyjeans/pseuds/lifeinskinnyjeans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cute oneshot told in flashback.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Artist's Hands

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was inspired randomly by Gerard's hands. I have kind of an obsession with them, and how they look like they were born to hold a pencil. (Although I have absolutely no problem with him holding a microphone either.)

"Happy one year, baby," my love murmured to me, cuddling up close to my side and placing a light kiss to the base of my neck.

I grinned sleepily. "You remembered," I said.

He kissed the base of my neck again. "Of course I did." He took his head out of the crook of my neck and looked up at me. "How could I forget anything about you? You're the best thing to ever happen to me."

I quickly leaned down and kissed him, taking his face in my hands. "I love you," I said, looking straight into his beautiful hazel-brown eyes.

He smiled back at me and said, "I love you, too." he kissed me again and then said, "Do you remember how we met?"

I grinned again. "Yes, of course I do."

~

Early on a Friday morning, I was sitting on an empty park bench in the empty park. I always thought that this was the best time to see any sort of nature; early in the morning, before the sun had the chance to warm much of anything up. Being a little cold was definitely worth seeing all the trees and things in such a raw state.

I was watching the dew sparkle in the beginning sunlight, wondering what beauty my pencil would capture today, when a foot invaded my field of vision. I quickly looked up and saw a man walking hurriedly through the park. I saw him look around, see me, then stop abruptly, never taking his eyes off me, but not moving from where he had stopped.

"I didn't know anyone was in the park this early," he called to me.

I smiled lightly and inclined my head at him to include him in my statement. "Neither did I."

He smiled back at me, sort of shyly. I'll admit, he was quite cute, and he was exhibiting a multitude of tattoos. Starting at his knuckles and curling up his entire right arm, he also had one on the side of his neck. If he had any more, I couldn't see them, either because they were on the side of the body that was facing away from me or because they were covered by his clothes. Or they're just in places that strangers shouldn't see. "What brings you here so early?" he asked.

I lifted my sketchpad off my lap and slapped it back down again, and then waggled my pencil in between my fingers. "My pencil," I answered. I then gestured at the quiet trees around us. "Well, the trees call my pencil, and my pencil calls me to pick it up and take it somewhere. Sometimes it's a piece of charcoal, but it's mostly the pencil."

The man laughed softly, looked down at his feet, and then looked back up at me. "An artist then?" I nodded. "Hobbyist or professional?"

"Kind of both."

He raised an eyebrow at me, then looked at his watch and swore. "Shit. I'm sorry, but I'm late for work. Maybe we can have some coffee when I get off work?"

I smiled. "Yeah, where do you work? I'll come by when you get off."

The man pointed in the direction he had been previously heading. "The tattoo studio on the strip. If I don't get fired," he joked. "Oh, and I get off at four."

"Okay," I said, and then he ran across the rest of the park and through the opening in the trees. Looking back around at the park, I noticed a set of footprints indented in the grass from where the man had been standing. I smiled to myself and adjusted my sketchpad in my lap. I had found today's subject.  
~  
I was so engrossed in drawing the cute tattooed man's footprints that I never thought to check my watch. So when I saw it peek out of my sleeve and I finally thought to check the time, I jumped about a foot and swore loudly, earning me a few dirty looks from the parents that were starting to bring their children to the park after school.

I threw my sketchpad, pencil, and eraser into my messenger bag rather haphazardly, shut it, and slung it over my shoulder as I stood. I adjusted my jacket and half-walked, half-ran towards the opening in the trees that I had seen the cute tattooed man run through this morning, coming out to a strip of shops clumped together like cheap condominiums. This would definitely be a great drawing, I thought. In charcoal, not pencil. It's one of those scenes.

I had only ever been to the grocery market on the far left end of the strip, so it was safe to say that I had no idea where I was. I stepped out onto the sidewalk to see if I could see the tattoo shop down either side of the strip, but to no avail. It was either further down than I could see, or it was on the same side of the street I was standing on, so it evaded my field of view. I saw a man walking by and quickly decided to ask him for directions. I tapped him on the shoulder as he went past, and he stopped, looking at me expectantly. "Excuse me, sir, but can you tell me in which direction the tattoo studio is?" I asked politely.

He pointed in the direction in which he had been walking. "About halfway down this way on the opposite street," he said, and continued on walking.

I muttered a "Thank you" under my breath out of politeness, and headed down the strip in the way the man had pointed. About a block down, a small red-brick building came into my view, with a short man in a black hoodie leaning against the one wall, smoking a cigarette. As I approached him, I could see the tattooed letters on his knuckles, and knew it had to be the cute tattooed man I was talking to this morning. As I continued toward him, he noticed me and moved to say something, but I opened my mouth first. "Yes, hi, I know I'm late, but I was just so engrossed in my drawing that I forgot to check the time."

He just smiled at me and stubbed out his cigarette, and blew the last exhale in my face. I scrunched up my face slightly and he chuckled. "It's okay, dude, I understand. I get like that when I play mu guitar."

I smiled back at him and went to run a hand through my hair before remembering that I had just recently gotten a haircut, so I had no hair to run my hand through. "Dammit," I muttered, dropping my hand back down by my side.

The cute tattooed man eyed me questioningly. "You just get your hair cut or something?" he asked.

I blushed and chuckled softly. "Yeah, yesterday. I'm not used to not having hair yet."

The man giggled and pulled his hands further inside his hoodie. "Coffee?" he asked, pointing back down the strip. I simply nodded and we began walking. "So, what were you drawing that you forgot to check the time?"

I smiled to myself. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that."

"Oh really? And why not?" the man asked as we walked.

"Because then I'd have to kill you," I answered cheekily.

He giggled again. "Okay then. What kinds of things do you usually draw?"

"Mostly still-life drawings, but I have done a couple portraits."

"And you just draw whatever you want?"

"Yeah, anything and everything I want."

"That's awesome."

I smiled at him as I held the door open to the coffee shop. "So you're a tattoo artist?" I asked when we had both entered.

"Apprentice," he replied. He walked up to the counter and ordered. The boy behind the register asked if he wanted whipped cream, and he said yes. Then he paid and stood to the side, and I walked up to the counter.

"Hi, do you have anything with caramel in it?" I asked as I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket.

"A caramel latte," the boy behind the register answered.

"One of those please." I handed him my credit card, and he swiped it, giving it back to me. I held it in my teeth as I walked over to join the cute tattooed man, whose name I still didn't know. He took the drink that was offered to him with a big smile on his face. He blew into the small hole in the top of the lid and curled his hands around it. I just smiled as I place my credit card back in my wallet and re-pocketed my wallet. "So, apprentice tattoo artist?"

The man took a sip of his drink, then swallowed it quickly, sticking his tongue out. "Ow, dammit. Why do I always do that?" he muttered to himself, then looked up at me. "Yeah, apprentice. I'm not fully trained yet."

I accepted my drink as it was handed to me over the counter, and I blew over the top of the hole in the lid. "Shall we sit?"

The man nodded and turned around. He sat down in a booth across from the pick-up counter, set down his drink, and stuck his hand out across the table when I sat down. "I'm an asshole for not introducing myself earlier. I'm Frank Iero."

I smiled, set my drink down on the table, and shook Frank's hand. "Gerard Way."

"Nice to finally meet you," Frank said, withdrawing his hand.

"Likewise," I said, sipping my latte.  
~  
It was two hours later and another latte later that my phone rang. I checked the ID; it was my brother. I held up a finger and pulled out my ringing phone. "Excuse me for a second. Hello?"

"Hey, Gerard."

"Hi, Mikes. What's up?"

"Gerard, I have something to tell you."

My eyebrows started to knit together. "What is it?"

"I started again, Gerard," my brother said blankly.

I sighed and dropped my head into my other hand. "Mikey."

"Please don't hate me."

"You're my brother, Mikey, I could never hate you."

"Okay. I just had to tell someone. I saw the old scars and wanted to remember," he said.

"How bad is it?" I asked, my eyes closed now.

"Not very bad. I just finished the dinner Mom made before she left for wherever she was going and I took the butter knife."

I sighed again. "Well, clean up and I'll be over there in a little bit," I said, rubbing my forehead.

"Okay. I'm gonna be in the living room," Mikey said.

"Just try to stay away from sharp things. Just, like, watch TV or something."

"Yeah. Bye, Gerard."

"Bye," I said, and hung up. I placed my phone next to me on the table and rubbed my eyes, sighing yet again.

"Everything okay?" Frank asked.

I looked up at him, then took my face out of my hands. "It's my brother. He's had some trouble with depression in the past, and he's relapsing. I have to go take care of him," I explained.

"Oh," Frank said simply. "Well here." He pulled a Sharpie marker out of his pocket and motioned for me to give him my hand. I gave it over and he scribbled down his name and phone number. "Call or text sometime. I'd love to get to know you better."

I smiled weakly and said, "Yeah, that'd be nice."

"I hope everything is okay with your brother."

"Thanks. I hope so, too."

~

"I remember it all really well," I said, running my fingers through Frank's hair.

He smiled up at me and inched up my side until he could easily kiss me. "And it's been one of the best years of my life," he said.

"One of?" I questioned.

"Who says that the next years won't be better?"

"Aw, Frankie!" I took his face in both my hands and kissed him sweetly. "You're so adorable. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Gee," Frank replied, kissing me again.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "I almost forgot your present!"

Frank blushed. "Gee...you didn't have to."

Running my hand through my shaggy blonde bedhead, I stood by our closet, looking for my sketchpad. Well, the sketchpad that had the drawing I was looking to give Frank. I had gone through four other sketchpads since that morning in the park. "Ah!" I breathed, spotting it. I pulled it down and walked back over to the bed.

"One of your sketchpads?" Frank asked as I sat down next to him. I just nodded and started flipping through the old pages, looking for one particular drawing.

I smiled when I found it. "Here," I said, sliding the sketchpad over to Frank.

"Footprints?" he asked again, looking over at me.

I continued to smile. "Yours," I replied.

"Mine?"

"From the day we met in the park."

Frank's eyes welled up with tears. "Gee..."

I took the sketchpad back and tore out the page, perforating the ragged edge and tearing it off. I handed the page to Frank, who had started to cry.

He wiped his face on the back of his hand, looking down at the picture and sniffling. "Thank you so much, Gee," he said, barely above a whisper. He lowered the drawing into his lap and looked up at me with huge smile on his face, fresh waves of tears rolling down his cheeks. "I feel even worse now that I didn't get you anything," he said, a little louder.

I smiled for the umpteenth time at Frank and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "It's okay. Seeing your reaction was enough of a present for me."

Frank just set aside the drawing and tackled me in a huge hug, making me laugh and squeeze him tightly as I felt my shoulder become wet with warm tears.


End file.
